Inevitable Surrender
by MannyZanders
Summary: He's gorgeous, hot, sexy and she wants to jump him in the worst way. Only problem? He's not her fiance. JoMax


_A/N: I really don't know what to say about this one – I have no excuse or explanation, I was just in a really weird mood. This is way AU and so very, very OOC – but maybe someone will enjoy it anyway! _

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"Maxie Jones; there had better be a damn good reason you're late to your own freaking fitting!"

With a wince, the tiny blonde yanked the phone away from her ear. Her best friend and maid of honor, Lulu Spencer was never what one would call quiet and demure in the best of times. But when she got stressed or nervous, her screeching could be heard a block away. The tinny echo of a cell phone only served to amplify her volume.

"Calm down Lulu, I'm just running a little late. I'll be there soon."

"How soon is soon, Maxie?" Clearly Lulu was flying fast and furious down the bitchtastic zone. Fabulous. As if her day wasn't already shooting straight off the fucking suck-a-meter as it was.

"I don't know – _soon_. Matt wanted me to stop by his office first, he said it was urgent."

"I bet. An urgent boner most likely." Lulu's irritation rolled clearly through the phone. "Maxie, you have a world famous designer sitting on her ass waiting for you to get your bony little butt over here. Kate will not be happy if you make this chick wait for your horny ass to show up. Tell Matt to wait until after the fitting for his daily blow job."

"Lulu, get real. That's not why I'm here." She rolled her eyes as she stepped into the elevator. Her love life lately was way more active in Lulu's imagination. She was pretty sure Lulu thought she and Matt did nothing but fuck all day and night. _As if._

The awful, mind-numbingly sad truth was that she had yet to take her fiancé out for a test drive between the sheets. That's what the honeymoon was for. Or so she kept telling Matt. And herself. Truthfully, she wasn't sure why she kept putting him off. Theirs wasn't exactly a love match, but she was certainly no virgin either. Far from it. _Far, far, far from it_. Unfortunately she found her soon-to-be-husband about as desirable as a hairy Oompa Loompa. This is to say of course, not at all.

"Uh-huh. I believe that as much as I believe you're saving yourself for your wedding night." Lulu snorted in disbelief. Maxie felt a pang of regret for not confiding in her friend. Of all people, Lulu would probably understand the urge to please a parent. But she had a hard time admitting that she, Maxie-live-for-the-moment-and-screw-what-people-think-of-you-Jones was settling. Settling for a boring life as a boring wife to a fuck-all boring man so she could produce boring-ass kids. She sighed. _Mac was thrilled, Mac was proud of her._ She just had to keep remembering that. It would see her through the next forty or fifty years. _Yeah right._

Forcing down a cringe at the thought of fifty years with Matt, she stepped into the waiting elevator. "Lulu – I realize you were there for every step of my spectacular _if it's got a dick, then fuck it_ youth but we're not seventeen anymore. I am capable of thinking of more than just sex."

Especially when around Matt. She'd found kissing him was the perfect chance to mentally plan out her day, think about world politics and generally escape from the feel of his limp slimy lips against hers. _Yeah – this was going to be one lo-oong successful marriage. _Oh well – that's why some wonderful, should be worshiped genius invented the magic that is the deluxe multi-speed personal vibrator currently resting in its little home under her pillow. If it weren't for the fact she couldn't take it shopping or gossip with it over coffee without getting some seriously weird-ass looks, her vibrating little rubber rabbit friend would have edged out Lulu for the title of _BFF_ a fuck-long time ago.

"Sure you can Maxie." She rolled her eyes as Lulu snickered into her ear. Leaning against the elevator wall, she cradled her phone to her shoulder and attempted to balance her wedding binder, several folders and her laptop in one arm. She pressed her free hand to signal the top floor and sighed. "Lulu…."

"Shit! Damn, damn, damn!" Maxie groaned in frustration as efforts at balancing proved futile and everything went spiraling out of her arms. "Lulu, I'm going to have to call you back – I just dumped everything on the floor."

"Ha! Klutzinator strikes again, huh? Guess I don't have to ask if you're at the Zacchara building already."

Maxie very helpfully advised her friend where she could shove her bridesmaid dress and hung up on her. Lulu found it hilarious that the notoriously fashionable and elegant Maxie Jones couldn't seem to enter this particular building without falling all over herself. Maxie just found it irritating as hell. She was Maxie-fucking-Jones; she did not stumble around like some ridiculous, ungraceful toad. Except she did. Or rather she did anytime she stepped foot into the Zacchara building, or got within ten feet of the owner of the Zacchara building.

Maybe it wouldn't be so ridiculously humiliating if said owner wasn't also her about-to-be husband's boss. Or if the damn bastard didn't find her lack of coordination around him so freaking hilarious. The man seemed to live for opportunities to see her red-faced and fumbling after embarrassing the shit out of herself. She sighed. At least this time, John Zacchara wasn't around to witness her idiocy. Because really? She was fuck-all tired of constantly falling on her ass around him, or stumbling to her knees, or spilling beverages all over herself. She sighed again. _At least he wasn't around for this particular stumble._ Thank god for small fucking favors. Of course, her luck being what it was whenever she stepped foot in this damn-had-to-be-cursed building, the elevator stopped with a lurch just as she was bending over to scoop everything up off the floor. And there she was, of course, thrown to her hands and knees just as the doors opened in front of her.

Shaking her head and cursing violently – and rather creatively, she thought proudly - under her breath, she ignored the person stepping into the elevator with her. Whoever it was, could just kiss her ass. She had no intention of apologizing or attempting inane niceties. She just wanted to get to Matt's office on the top floor and get the hell out of here before she made any more of an idiot of herself. Or worse – ran into the smirking, flirty, hard-bodied, arrogant, stud-muffin of a man that was her fiancé's boss.

"Maxie, if I'd known that you were that eager to get on your knees for me – I would have arranged to meet you in my office. It has a lock. And a camera."

She froze. _Fuck, fuck, FUCK!_ Of all people, it would have to be Johnny-freaking-sex-in-a-suit-Zacchara. She groaned – damn it, could her day get any worse?

She blew a lock of hair out of her eyes and tilted her head up to glare at him. "Screw you."

He laughed; the sound smooth and husky. It washed over her and she cursed her traitorous body. Bastard was a cocky, arrogant, jerk that suffered from the massive delusions. Main delusion? That if he leered at her constantly and let loose enough sexual innuendo around her she would leap on his leg and hump him like a poodle on crack. But damn if his deep, velvety voice didn't send hot squishy sparks shooting straight through her every time. Stupid jerk with the stupid panty-creaming voice. And face. And body. Stupid jerk.

"Why Miss Jones, what would your fiancé think of you offering yourself to me like that?"

She rolled her eyes. _Arrogant bastard. _"Matt would never believe it." She sniffed derisively. "He knows how I feel about you."

"Does he, Maxie? Does he see the way your eyes constantly strip me naked, that those amazing breasts of yours tighten when I look at you, or how hard you breathe until you're practically panting when I touch you?"

_Fuck she hoped not. That could be an embarrassing conversation. "Sorry dear, but your boss makes me hornier than a fucking toad. Don't take it personal, 'kay?"_

She felt his breath hot and heavy against her ear and she stiffened. Turning her head, she realized he was kneeling behind to her and was practically plastered to her back. She let out a very sophisticated "_Eeep!" _and lurched away from him. Bastard chuckled and scooped up her fallen property with a smirk. It made him look like even more of an arrogant bastard. A hot, sexy, gorgeous arrogant bastard.

_Matt, I'm marrying Matt _she chanted silently to herself. She was getting married in less than a week, why did she have to keep reminding herself of that every time she got around Johnny? With a start she realized he was staring at her expectantly and she flushed.

"In your dreams you arrogant prick, you only ever see me when I'm with Matt – that's why I get excited." He laughed.

She huffed. "Seriously, could you be any more of an ass?" She rose to her feet stiffly and glared at him as he glided gracefully to a standing position. How the hell did he make just standing up so damn sexy? And why did it feel like there was a damn slip-n-slide going on in her panties? Stupid jerk. Stupid, stupid hot sexy kissable fuckable..._whoa, whoa – bad Maxie_! Stupid traitorous body that went into automatic drool-down at the mere sight of said stupid jerk with the fine world-class tight ass.

She wondered if she could sue her own body for failure to comply to her very reasonable demands that it find the owner of said fine ass stupid and repulsive instead. "Stupid ass." She muttered and glared at him, trying to yank back her files from him.

"You use that word a lot around me, Maxie." He grinned and tightened his grip on her belongings, blocking her futile attempts to tug them out of his hands. "Does your fiancé realize you've been checking out my ass?"

She did what any faithful, devoted woman with a fiancé would do. She lied. "I have not!"

She flushed and crossed her arms in front of her. _Oh god, had she been that obvious? _ Why, oh why – did Matt have to work for a man whose looks and body rivaled a Greek Adonis? Of course she'd checked out his ass, she was a heterosexual woman with a pulse. And a fiancé that was pretty much the equivalent of sexual dry toast. And John Zacchara practically dripped sex appeal. _She was certainly dripping after every encounter with the man._

She slid a sideways glance at him from beneath her eyelashes and nearly groaned out loud as his self-satisfied smirk deepened. Her flush intensified, damn it – was the man a freaking mind reader?

"You're looking a little flushed Maxie; do you need to lie down?"

"No!" she flushed again, "Uh, I mean no – just light-headed. Because I forgot to eat, because of the stress, the wedding – lots and lots of stress." Her flush deepened, she groaned internally - _fuck me running_ – could she be any more of a rambling basket case?

"If you're feeling dizzy, you should put your head between your knees." He leered at her. "Or I could do it for you."

She pointed a finger at him, "Back off buddy, I'm the only one getting between my legs." She slapped a hand over her mouth in mortification. To his credit, Johnny said nothing. But his arched eyebrow and self-satisfied smirk said everything for him.

Thankfully the elevators slid to a stop. She yanked her stuff from his arms and stepped out. She let out a loud groan as she realized he was right behind her. Holding her head high, she decided to just ignore him. It was a little harder to ignore when he was still behind her when she reached Matt's office door. She turned to him with a glare. "Do you mind?"

He shrugged. "Not at all."

"Ugh – go away! I need to talk to my fiancé." The door opened and Maxie spun around with a forced smile. "Matt!"

Matt stared at her blankly, his gaze shooting between her and his boss. She tilted her head in confusion. He looked like crap, he was pale and sweaty and nervous as all hell. "Uh Matt, you okay?"

He smiled sickly. "Yeah, fine. Just fine." His eyes flickered constantly from her to John and she sighed. "Matt, let's go in your office. You look awful."

"No!" His grip tightened on his door like he would slam it in her face rather than let her in. She stared at him in shock. What the hell was wrong with him? He smiled again, but it looked like more of a grimace as he shifted from foot to foot.

"Uh, I mean…I just wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah, I know." She furrowed her brow. Seriously, what the hell was wrong with the man? She followed his wide-eyed stare and turned her head slightly to ask nicely between clenched teeth. "Mr. Zacchara – could you give us a minute?"

His returning smile was genuine and relaxed as he leaned a hip against the secretary's desk just outside Matt's office. "I'm fine here, thanks."

"Fine. Whatever." She rolled her eyes and turned back to her fiancé. "Matt? You said it was urgent and I've got to get to my last fitting before the wedding."

He swallowed convulsively and rocked back on his heels. "Uh yeah, about that." Her eyes widened and apprehension filled her. Crap, now what? His eyes widened as he suddenly paled and Maxie yanked her head around to follow his panicked stare. For a moment, she caught the hard-edged stare being directed at Matt and she shivered – he looked almost…menacing. The look disappeared so quickly she wondered if she'd imagined it. He smiled at her and she scowled.

Matt edged away from his door and stepped into the hallway. She frowned as she realized he was slowly edging away from her. "Maxie, I know this is really bad timing and all but uh…" He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, his eyes still constantly shifting between her and his boss. "I'm calling off the wedding!" He blurted out.

"Uh, what?" She stared at him stupidly. "You're calling off the wedding, the wedding we're supposed to have in _one fucking week_?!"

"Yeah, sorry about that. But, uh look – you can keep the ring and everything. But yeah – no wedding."

The conversation ended there. Not because she couldn't think of anything else to say, or because she was crying too hard to talk. No, it was because he took off running down the hall. She stared in disbelief. _Fucker dumped her, in front of his fucking boss of all people, and ran like a mother-fuckin' chicken._

She was so shocked she didn't even struggle when John took everything out of her slack hands, placed it on the nearby desk and led her down the hallway to an enormous office some doors down. Before she knew it, he had her sitting on a giant leather couch and was crouching in front of her.

She blinked at him. "Did I…" she cleared her throat, "Did I just get dumped?" He chuckled softly. "Yeah, sweetheart – I think you did."

"Oh. Okay." She blinked again, then groaned suddenly and placed her head in her hands. "Holy shit, I'm living out my own goddamn Lifetime movie-of-the-fucking-week."

He cocked his head at her, "Does this mean your free Friday? 'Because I've got tickets to the Opera."

She stared at him, mouth open. "What? You're making jokes?" her eyes flashed. "I just got dumped - you ass, I need comforting!"

"I've always found fucking to be the best form of comfort. And look, you've already manipulated your way on to my couch in my office."

She refused to start screaming in frustration or give in to the impulse to smack his smug, insensitive smirking face. She was a mature, responsible adult. She proved it by clapping her hands over her ears, screwing her eyes shut and shouting _"Lala la la lala"_ at the top of her lungs. Oh yeah, those cotillion classes had paid off in spades.

He pried her hands away from her ears and leaned in. "You said you needed comforting. I'll comfort you so hard you won't walk straight for a week."

She shook her head at him, the man was incorrigible. "Please, I'm begging you - please stop."

He leered at her. "That was hot Maxie. Beg me again." She slapped a hand against her forehead and moaned in defeat. There was simply no winning a verbal sparring match with this man. His eyes widened, his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip. "Fuck yeah – moan like that again."

"Aargh! Would you please stop being an obnoxious fucking pig for two minutes? I just got dumped a week before my goddamn wedding!"

He frowned at her suddenly. "Fuck Maxie," he searched her face with a weird urgency. "You weren't actually in love with that idiot, were you?"

"What the hell does love have to do with getting married, you moron?"

He grinned and let out a relieved breath. She'd be fine. Her ego might be a little bruised, but losing Matt would in no way devastate her emotionally. Not that he would ever regret what he did – Maxie was worth it, she was worth everything but at least he didn't have to pretend to feel sorry for her. He didn't think he could pull it off. As it was, he could barely restrain himself from rubbing his hands in gleeful anticipation. Maxie Jones was his, he'd known it from the moment he met her. Theirs would be a long, amazing marriage with hot sex. Lots and lots of hot sex. He could hardly wait for the honeymoon. All that was left was the ring and the wedding. Oh yeah - and uh, convincing the bride.

But he was Johnny Zacchara, he could do that blindfolded. His eyes glazed, _ooh a blindfolded Maxie, a _handcuffed_ blindfolded Maxie on her knees in front of him_. Oops. He looked down at the rather impressive tenting of his pants that those particular thoughts had brought and stood quickly, trying to will it away. She was no quick fuck, no one night stand. So it was probably not the right time to be sporting wood. She needed a grieving period, time to adjust, to come to terms before he made his move. Tomorrow seemed like an adequate amount of time.

His musings were interrupted when she sighed. "I can't believe he dumped me a week before the wedding!"

"At least it wasn't at the altar." He pointed out helpfully. At least he thought he was being helpful. Her glare said she disagreed. Oh well.

"John Zacchara!" her eyes narrowed as she stared at him suspiciously, "Do _you _know why Matt suddenly decided getting married was a bad idea?"

_Uh yeah – ten million dollars, plus a healthy affinity for keeping his balls attached. _He shrugged. "Me? How the hell would I know – I'm his boss, not his confidant."

She continued to stare at him, her gaze speculative before giving a defeated shrug. "Yeah, I guess." She sighed again. "Damn, my dad is going to be so disappointed."

"Your dad – that's why you agreed to marry Matt instead of doing the smart thing three months ago?"

"Three months ago? What was the smart thing to do three months ago?"

He was a little offended she didn't connect the three months with the first time she sashayed her cute little ass into his previously dreary life. He shrugged, "Introduce yourself at the company party then show up at my office in nothing but heels and fuck me like a drunken cowgirl at an all-night rodeo."

She blinked. Then blinked again. _Hot damn, that was a disturbing visual. And she was so using it when Mr. Vibrating Rabbit made his nightly appearance in a few hours._ She gave herself a mental shake and focused on the why's of her acceptance of Matt's proposal.

"You don't understand. Mac – my dad, well step-dad technically – he practically raised me and my sister when our parents decided there other things they'd rather be doing." She chewed on her bottom lip. "Georgie, my sister, she's the good one, the perfect child. Me, well…" she shrugged, "I was the wild one. I'm surprised he hasn't dropped from a heart attack from all the times he's had to save me from myself. This was my chance to make him proud."

"By marrying a boring ass-wipe that would have had you looking for the nearest man to fuck within a week?"

She crossed her arms in front of her and huffed, "No jerk-wad, by doing the whole picket-fence, two-point-five kids, six bedroom house with a pool thing. He likes Matt, he loves the idea of someone taking care of me and making sure I stay safe and sane."

"Maxie you need more than the six bedroom house with a pool and no sex-life. You're too passionate a woman not to have love, to creative and wild not to have respect, excitement and a real commitment from a husband. Not to mention, you are the kind of woman that needs hot, bend-you over the nearest flat surface and fuck you raw, kind of sex. You really think Matt can give you that?"

She rolled her eyes and sniffed daintily. "I said I'd have a pool. Hot sex is what the pool-boy is for."

"That would be a very bad idea."

"Why is that?"

"Because I would have to kill him if he put so much as a finger on your naked body. And then who would clean your pool?"

She couldn't help it – she giggled. "You're awfully possessive over someone else's ex-fiancée."

"I don't share well. It's a terrible flaw I know. But it's probably better you realize that now. That way we can avoid the trail of dead pool-boys and teenage gardener's."

She gave a fake pout and batted her eyelashes at him. "But what if they're really cute pool-boy's and teenage gardeners?"

"I'd still cut off their dick's if they even thought about touching you."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Ewww." Okay, what the hell was wrong with her? Why the hell was she flirting with this egomaniac? _Bad Maxie, very very bad – stop encouraging the fuck-hot, drool-worthy, panty-creamer._ 'Cause really – did he need any more proof of how un-fucking-believably irresistible he was? He did not need one more person advocating his belief that he was the sexual equivalent to crack. _Heh. Would that make her a crack-whore?_

Concentrate Maxie, concentrate. Ignore the fuck-hot sex-god and tell him to go to hell. Tell him how inappropriate he was, stop flirting, and walk away. Yep, very good plan. Excellent, in fact. One little problem – her hormones, after a showdown with her logic, hog-tied her intelligence and did a rousing little half-naked cheer in favor of Team Bend-me-over-the-nearest-flat-surface-and-fuck-me-raw-Zacchara.

"So how am I going to get all the hot sex then if you take away my shirtless pool-boys and half-naked gardeners? Are you volunteering?"

"I would have thought that was perfectly clear with the whole I-don't-share-well speech." He sat down next to her, drew her head close to his and leaned in to lick a slow line up her neck and she shivered with a desperate moan. "I was very impressed with your determination to remain faithful to Matt, despite how very dickless he clearly was. But you are no longer engaged, which means I don't have to maintain a respectful distance anymore."

She stared at him. _That was maintaining a respectful distance? _

He smiled cheerfully, his tone bright. "So, let's review…your engagement is finally over, you want to fuck me so badly you can't even see straight and I refuse to share you – ever, you belong to me and Matt is an idiot who clearly did not deserve you." He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "So what do you say we get back at him for dumping you by fucking on every available surface in his office?"

She knew what she had to do. Tell him to go fuck himself. She was no goddamn possession – who the hell did he think he was, _he didn't share, she belonged to him? _And really, revenge sex? Cancelling the wedding would be damn inconvenient but Mac would get over his dream of seeing his little girl marrying the perfect man and being the perfect wife. She was more relieved at the prospect of not having to tie herself to a life of finding a garden gnome more sexually appealing than her own husband, then hurt or upset over being dumped. So really, there was no motivation for revenge sex in Matt's office. Yep, she knew what to do. Tell him to take a flying leap, walk away and stay the hell away from John-fuck-me-and-fuck-me-now- Zacchara.

Instead she smiled, slid her arms up his chest, around his neck and licked her lips.

"He won't shut up about that stupid eight-hundred dollar leather chair he got on-line, let's fuck on that first."


End file.
